My Goddess
by Sadistic Shadow
Summary: [AxS] After her demise, Aeris awoke in the sanctuary of her Midgar home. "Her mind was racing. It seemed she had somehow evaded death and now it had come to claim her. She felt a sudden surge of will, She wouldn’t go down without a fight. Not this time."


**Disclaimer:** Final Fantasy VII is the exclusive property of Squaresoft/Square-Enix. I merely own the merchandise. "My Goddess" is a song by one of my favorite bands, The Exies. Only the title may be attributed to them, as none of the lyrics are used in the entirety of this fic, unless otherwise noted.

"My Goddess"

By Sadistic Shadow

Her lovely green eyes widened to sizes unfathomable; pupils dilated, her lush lips moved to form a small, circular shape. Protruding from her chest was the deadly Masamune, the wicked blade gleaming in what could only be delight.

Its owner's visage remained blank, showing absolutely no remorse for the heinous crime. But even as a cruel smirk played his thin, flippantly pressed lips, something akin to sorrow flickered momentarily within the abyssal depths of his mako-green occuli.

Her long lashes fluttered closed, even as her strangled cry died deep within her throat. The very last thing she would cast her gaze upon would be the face of her beloved Cloud, twisted in insidious rage.

A gentle humming sound met her ears, sudden visions of soft pastels flooding her dying senses. She felt a sudden twinge of bitterness -- did the Planet think this eased her passing? Immediately, however, she regretted such hasty, utterly selfish thoughts. She had known all along. This was to be her destiny: she was to become the ultimate sacrifice.

The noise grew faint and then eventually subsided. The writhing mass of color gave way to gentle gray. Her erratic breathing slowed -- almost to normal -- before that sweet breath depleted and her form grew still.

Aerith Gainsborough was no more. Along with her tragic demise came the end of a race nearly as old as the Planet itself. Or so everyone believed.

She awoke in a cold sweat; from the darkness peered dual orbs of blazing emerald. She lay sprawled out on her bed, the near-filmy linen sheets barely covering her slender figure.

She slowly rose, making sure to take her time. Disbelief shown clearly on her features. She felt compelled to speak, and so she did. Her voice was hoarse, filled with confusion. "…I'm alive?"

All-too-soon, she became aware of the familiar buzz. A feeling of relief washed over her and she could not help but flash a smile -- albeit uneasy -- at the moon. Her acceptance rewarded her with a brilliant flash of blue, courtesy of the Planet itself.

But even with this much-welcomed assurance, the whole situation was much too wild for her slightly conservative tastes. As she stumbled across the room, propelled by the overly cool floorboards, she could not help but feel a bit overwhelmed.

She inhaled sharply, eyelids drooping as she began to succumb to a sudden onslaught of weariness. Her breath trickled forth from her rosy lips as she cared to let it escape, and all was still for several moments.

It was then she noticed him. The scene spread out before her in such ethereal fashion, she could not help but wonder if this had all been the product of some demented nightmare. For sitting in the shadowed corner, perched delicately atop a rickety old chair, clad in little more than a pair of pants, was her killer in cold blood. Sephiroth.

He sat for some time, as if in a trance. At last he seemed to take notice of her. 'Pon spying her gaping expression, a rather feral grin replaced his usually somber mask. His keen eyes shimmered even in the poor light. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine. She could not even begin to guess what he was planning.

At his persistent stare, she finally became aware that her attire was not exactly appropriate. A sort of indignant noise escaped her and she moved to pluck a conveniently located shawl and drape it about herself. It was very unsettling to be under such intense scrutiny.

Before she could do much of anything though, she felt spindly fingers enclose her wrist in a firm yet surprisingly gentle grip. Her now hardened eyes flashed, meeting his smoldering ones. The chair had long since been abandoned. His speed impressed her, to say the least.

"Don't move!" He whispered harshly. His speech had been sudden -- unexpected. It had certainly surprised her and she felt it safe to assume he had startled even himself. When she made as if to protest, he forcefully silenced her. His gloved hand slid from her delicate wrist to cover her mouth. "That included your lips, girl."

Her mind was racing. It seemed she had somehow evaded death and now it had come to claim her. She felt a sudden surge of will, She wouldn't go down without a fight. Not this time, anyway.

But just as she went to disobey his command, a quiet scratching coming from just outside her window stopped her right before her teeth were about to clamp down on his nimble, leather-bound digits.

The noise continued, much to her dismay. In time, it was replaced by something much more frightening. Shadows prowled about, met by hushed voices. Soon, the tinkling of cracked glass met her ears. A sudden rush of cold air set her on edge. Despite his remaining grip, Aerith had nearly forgotten Sephiroth was there. Suddenly, she froze: surely that was not Hojo's voice she just heard?

Judging Sephiroth's reaction, her ears had not deceived her. The warrior himself had fallen unnaturally still. She twisted her head as much as she dared, hoping to catch sight of any display of emotion. If she was disappointed when her efforts turned up vain, she did an extremely well job of keeping it from her expression.

He arched a brow as their eyes directly met for the second time that night. Oh, how she longed to make some sort of response to that arrogance. Perhaps then, she would feel better…

A loud crash startled her from her thoughts. A string of curses soon followed. All was silent for a little while, but the humdrum soon resurfaced.

So engaged in her listening activity was she that she barely noticed Sephiroth removing his hand from her and sidling across the room. With his back to her, she could not see the chilling smile her flashed her reflection in the vanity mirror.

* * *

**  
A/N:** Welcome to the first chapter of one crazy ride, ladies and gents. I'll warn you ahead of time; though they'll be worth the wait, updates will be hard to come by. As much as I'd love to sit down and commit myself to one story and one story only, I simply can't. So as I dabble off in other fandoms, this fic may appear abandoned/discontinued. Well, I never give up on a fic unless I absolutely abhor the idea. And I doubt I'll ever reach that point with this. This seriously has to be one of my greatest works. Sure, I've written fancier things, but everything about this fic is so to me. The language, the mood, the organization. But most of all, it's **me**. It just screams Shiara, and I doubt it could ever be mistaken as another's work. And none of you will ever have any idea of how proud that makes me. 

So anyway, leave me your honest comments, critique, praise, constructive criticism, or whatever floats your boat. Just no flames, please. Even if you completely loathe the idea of Aerith/Sephiroth being paired together, I'm asking you to keep any and all rude comments to yourself. Additionally, I'd much prefer Aerith-haters to keep their distance -- especially all Cloud/Tifa-loving ones, since I do tolerate/enjoy/whatnot that pairing and will most likely include a little of that in here. Sorry for sounding a little defensive, but I'd rather get this out in the open right now than receive an inbox of angry, ignorant rants.

Please Review!


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